


The Clones on Sarang Station

by Othalla



Category: Moon (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - GERTY's reboot didn't quite go through, Clones, Gen, Humanity, Identity Issues, Post-Movie(s), Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Othalla/pseuds/Othalla
Summary: Sam wakes up.In some ways, he wishes he hadn't.





	The Clones on Sarang Station

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinelanguage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinelanguage/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Moon is one of my favorite movies, and this was a fun write for many reasons!  
> Special thanks to [Muccamukk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk) who looked it over :)

Sam stands in front of an endless hallway’s worth of other Sams, and doesn’t know what to do. The Sam That Got Away (and Sam can’t quite believe there’s something to be getting away from, _he just got here_ ) had left the mess of what to do with the other Sams behind him, and so now it fell to Sam, the first one to be woken after the main event.

GERTY had apologized.

Sam doesn’t know how he feels about any of it.

The rigid plastic of the hatch is cold and smooth against his hand, and Sam wonders what it’s like to sleep like this; like corpses at a coroner’s office. GERTY tells him that he too did, before he was woken up, but that’s... To sleep tagged and ready for cremation doesn’t-

It doesn’t feel possible. This isn’t the sort of place people should wake up in.

This is a place for the dead.

(For the cloned.)

Vaguely he wonders for how long they’ve been here. He could ask GERTY, certainly, but then he’d know.

Knowing is probably worse than wondering.

Maybe they’ve been here forever. Maybe they’re just part of the scenery. Maybe they’re just stiffly jointed mannikins from a factory assembly line, put together by robots and minimal wage workers who aren’t allowed to unionize, all for the sake of company profit. For the sake of more dollars in an offshore bank account the government doesn’t care about. Just because Sam doesn’t feel like a thing, doesn’t mean he isn’t. He feels human. He feels like a person.

His body is deteriorating, and at most he’ll have three years to live. He’ll spend the majority of that time in pain.

Sam is forty years old. His dad might’ve died due to heart problems in his fifties, but his mother’s still alive (isn’t she? God what _year is it?_ ), so Sam should have decades left in him still. He eats well. He works out. _He should have decades left in him still_.

Sam clenches his teeth together and turns away from the hallway of clones. He climbs up the ladder. He ignores GERTY’s sad face.

Sam gets to work.

It’s what he came here to do.

(He didn’t come here to be a clone, that’s for fucking sure.)

-

Ten hours and a session with the punching bag later, and Sam’s back down in the hallway. His wet hair is dripping down on the collar of the coverall. He’s considering shaving it off. Maybe by going bald he’ll fix something. Maybe he’ll move away from the shadow of Human Sam, who’s somewhere down on Earth probably leading the good life, with his (Sam’s) wife and his (Sam’s) daughter. Human Sam is not giving a shit about the rest of them. They’re not _people_ to him.

Clone Sam is not worth shit to Human Sam.

Sam has decided how he feels about everything now.

He’s fucking furious.

“Wake them all up,” Sam tells GERTY.

-

_Wake us all up._

-

It’s a bad plan for many reasons, but what the fuck does he care? Each Sam’s got three years max to live. Sam’s going to fucking make them count.

The newly awoken Sams are huddling together in the med bay, covered in what blankets and spare clothing Sam could find. GERTY had refused to wake more than ten at a time, something to do with lack of resources to ensure each Sam’s health or something, so there are only eleven Sams here now instead of the hundreds Sam had planned.

That’s ok though. They’ve got some time still before Lunar Industries will try to clean house. That’s what companies do, what _people_ do, when they’ve caused a problem they don’t want to deal with. They make it go away.

Sam’s not going to go away quietly. He figures if he can get enough Sams woken up in time, they can overtake the workers of Lunar Industries and commandeer their ship.  With a ship they can go anywhere, do anything, and Sam quite feels like landing somewhere public. Someplace where the ordinary people are. The people whose first instinct isn’t to _make it go away_ but to hold a camera in the air and get the injustice up on the internet and make it go viral.

Sam thinks that’s the only way to get justice. The only way to get heard. He doubts anyone knows as is, no matter what the Sam That Got Away planned on doing when he reached Earth.

He hopes that the Sam That Got Away is (relatively) safe, but he doesn’t bet on it. Lunar Industries was big back when his memories weren’t his. They’re likely much bigger now.

A company like that wouldn’t have any troubles making a single clone disappear.

Getting rid of a hundred clones are harder simply through sheer logistics. Especially when they’re fighting back.

There are no weapons on the Sarang Station, but Sam bets he can make some.

First, though, he has to deal with the other Sams. It’s been an hour, and that’s around as long as it took Sam to regain his bearing when he woke up, and they’re starting to look more freaked out than groggy. They’re probably in a worse state of mind than he was, now that he thinks about it. At least he hadn’t had his own face stare back at him from ten different angles.

He walks over to stand before them. When he doesn’t get an immediate reaction, he coughs deliberately, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. A Sam, with a blue beanie on his head, visibly jerks and hunches back.

Sam scowls.

He fucking _hates_ Lunar Industries.

-

Blue Beanie Sam looks like he wants to puke when Sam’s told him the whole sordid tale of what he is and how he got here, and truly, Sam can’t blame him. It’s puke worthy material. But there’s no time for that, and so he orders Blue Beanie Sam to get up and start microwaving dinners, and Blue Beanie Sam does what he’s told without backtalk.

The other Sams he tells to find things with weight that they can swing at people and hurt them with, and then they’re going to go to the kitchen and eat the dinner that Blue Beanie Sam made for them. And then they’re going to go right back to weapon hunting.

Sam (and GERTY) are going to wake up another batch of Sams.

-

And do it all over again.

-

There are, exactly, 213 clones on Sarang Station. Including Sam.

He doesn’t ask GERTY how many has been smuggled down in a crate (like garbage) to be incinerated.

It’s just another thing he’s probably better off not knowing.

-

Turns out it’s surprisingly hard to make weapons in a place where everything’s the aesthetic is minimalistic white slabs of plastic with padding on top. Some Sams are working on disassembling the harvesters for their sharp parts, but that’s coming along slowly. As it is, they have some metal beams, a few screw drivers, and a shit load of rocks that some enterprising version of him decided to take a rover outside and collect. It’s not quite the veritable armory Sam had imagined, but it’ll do.

If worst comes to worst, they have the number advantage (91 clones awake, with ten more being brought up). They can probably take whoever is coming just by throwing themselves at them, biting, punching, and raging. Even the weakest Sam clocks in around some 150 pounds. Catching that in the ribs fazes a man, no matter what he’s benching. Sam thinks they’re going to be fine.

He hefts a steel beam up in his right hand. He tries swinging it. It moves easily enough. He nods and the other Sams move to pick a weapon, too, because somehow, he’s the Sam That Says.

Yeah, they’ll be fine.

GERTY comes up, frowny face on, and lets him know the other Sams are waking up.

He gets back to work.

-

He doesn’t sleep.

-

(He’s slept too goddamn long already.)

-

GERTY hoovers behind him. He doesn’t speak because Sam has threatened to cut the wires that enables him to move should he do that, but for a robot he’s very good at nonverbally conveying his feelings.

(He’s sorry. He’s sad. He wants to help.)

Apparently, some clones just don’t survive the hibernation period. Their cells go into overdrive, replicating themselves over and over until even the slightest of nudges make them implode. Waking up kills them.

-

(There are, exactly, 209 clones on Sarang Station. Including Sam.)

-

So Sam doesn’t care that GERTY’s sad.

He’s fucking complicit.

-

When Sam’s been away for 24 hours GERTY receives a ping that Lunar Industries are sending three shuttles, estimated arrival time twelve hours, and suddenly Sam can’t breathe. His throat closes. His heart beats like a war drum. His ears are ringing. He’s bitten his tongue hard enough it’s bleeding

(He wants to _wake up_.)

In front of him he sees Blue Beanie Sam fret, his hands twitching like he wants to reach out but isn’t certain if it’d be welcome. Sam realizes it’s because Blue Beanie Sam is kind. He’s _kind_. He wants to help.

Just like that, Sam can breathe.

Just like that, he’s ok.

-

At least a little, he’s ok.

-

Sam sleeps in front of the hatch GERTY says was his. He doesn’t consider the implications of that. It’s not worth it.

-

GERTY says: “They’re here,” and Sam grasps his metal beam and rises off the floor in the Hallway of Clones and climbs up to ground level. The other Sams are there, waiting. In their hands they hold their salvation.

They’re Sam.

They march.

-

In a world where Sam Bell isn’t a clone, he imagines he wouldn’t be quite so angry.

But he is, and so he burns with it.

They _made him_.

-

It’s not the sort of thing you forgive.


End file.
